


Frerard One Shots

by yelyahkilljoys



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Frerard, M/M, frerard one shots, one shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-06 07:02:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15189377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yelyahkilljoys/pseuds/yelyahkilljoys
Summary: FLUFF ONLY. NO SMUT.This will be updated at random and whenever I feel like it.





	1. Christmas Lights Can't Hurt You But Cute Boys Sure Can

Christmas was always more than a holiday for my family.

We were the family that visited the retirement home every year to sing carols, and we took special care in decorating our tree. My little brother Mikey and I had won the ugly sweater contest at our school every year since I was in third grade, and the two of us were masters at gingerbread house decorating. My parents always started buying gifts two months in advance, and our Christmas cookies were the best in town. One time, Dad even played Santa Clause at the mall. We had everything from Christmas socks to matching pajamas. It was like the second Thanksgiving had ended, we were in Christmas mode, scouring the Hallmark website for new ornaments and turning on our favorite festive films.

It wasn't just a holiday, no, Christmas was a passion.

It'd always been this way, and I loved it. I always had, aside from middle school, when I'd been a little embarrassed about my family's antics, but it was impossible not to be affected by the smell of pine and the twinkling lights adorning the tree. There was so much Christmas spirit in the air that I was soon over it.

My favorite part of the holiday, however, was not the gifts. It was not the cookies, or even the music.

My favorite part of Christmas was the lights that we always decorated the outside of our house with. This year, all of our trees were wrapped in red and white lights. There were green and red lights woven through the bushes and along the edge of the roof. There was a light up wreath hanging above our door. There were decorative candy canes lining the walkway to our home. We'd set up a massive Christmas tree made entirely out of green lights, and there was even a star at the top. Our work was impressive every year, and we got compliments from all of the neighbors.

Well, all of the neighbors except for the house across the street.

I didn't know them personally. I just knew that they had a son my age, and he didn't go to my school. Our families had never spoken, but ever since they moved here six years ago, we'd had an unspoken Christmas lights competition with them.

I had to admit, their lights were almost always as magnificent as ours. _Almost._

This year, their walkway was lined with red and green lights. Their roof was covered in golden lights, and their trees were wrapped in silver ones. In their yard, they had a light up snowman and three reindeer pulling a sleigh. They had a wreath, too, but ours was bigger and therefore better according to Dad, at least.

My father was probably the most devoted to the holiday out of the four of us. My mom was a close second, and I was right behind her. Mikey, who was two years younger than I, was still in eighth grade, and I think we were embarrassing him a little bit with our love for Christmas, especially since a certain girl named Kristin Colby lived four houses down.

Mikey and I were helping Mom tidy up the kitchen after dinner when we heard Dad curse loudly from the living room.

Mom rushed out of the room. Mikey and I exchanged a glance, set down the dishes we'd been drying, and followed.

Our parents were crowded around the window. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"They copied us," Dad huffed angrily. "They copied us, those uncultured motherf-"

"What your father is trying to say is that the people across the street ripped us off. They've got a Christmas tree in their yard, too, and it's bigger than ours." The annoyance on Mom's face was clear.

"Are you serious?" I exclaimed, peeking through the window. They were right; There was a gigantic tree made of Christmas lights about a foot taller than ours in the yard across the street.

Mikey rolled his eyes. "Take a chill pill, guys. It's just a stupid decoration."

Dad spun around. "Hey. That's enough of that attitude, young man."

"Donald," Mom warned.

"It's fine," I assured them as Mikey adjusted his glasses next to me. "We'll just have to find something to outdo them-"

"Oh, no, Gerard," My father fulminated. "We are not letting them get away with that. They're going to take their tree down, even if I have to march over there myself and make them."

And with that, he stomped out the door.

"Donald, _no!"_ Mom cried as she ran after him.

"That's quite the temper tantrum he's having," Mikey observed, shaking his head.

I chuckled. "Yeah. Come on, let's go make sure they don't do anything stupid."

We trudged through the snow until we reached the yard. Mom and Dad were already at the door. My father smiled when he saw us. "I'm glad you both have decided to join us. We're going to need as many fighters as we can get."

"Oh my God, Dad, you make it sound like we're going into war," Mikey said.

"This is war, Mikes," I laughed. He only rolled his eyes again.

Mom rapped on the door, and a minute later, a boy answered it. He looked sixteen, my age, and was pretty short. He was wearing pajama pants and an Iron Maiden sweatshirt. His black hair was messy. He was leaning against the doorway and sucking on the end of candy cane.

"Hello, young man. Do you live here?" Mom asked.

He looked confused. "Yes?"

"We'd like to comment on your lights," Dad said.

The boy smiled. He had a nice smile. "What about them?"

"We noticed that your tree is practically identical to the one across the street," My father went on.

Our host's smile turned into a smirk. "Ah. You're the family who lives there, aren't you?"

"Yes, we are!" Mom stomped her foot, as if this would drive her message further into the boy's brain.

"I demand that you take down your tree at once! That's plagiarism!" Dad jabbed his finger at the boy, who I noticed had a bone structure that would be perfect to draw. He caught me staring at him and winked. I blushed, and my gaze fell to the floor.

"Technically, we bought the tree from the same company you did, so it's not really plagiarism," The boy said, twirling his candy cane in his hand.

"We had it first," Mom insisted.

He laughed and shook his head. "You're just not going to give up, are you?"

My parents stared down at him stubbornly. Mikey looked like he was about ready to die from embarrassment. Me, I'd taken to watching the boy's movements; They were thoughtless yet graceful, as if he didn't care what anybody thought of him. I envied him.

He laughed again, and yelled into the house, "Mom! Dad! Santa and his elves would like a word with you!"

A moment later, a man and a woman that I supposed were his parents appeared behind him. The woman smiled at us, and then frowned at her son.

"Frank! You should've invited our guests inside, it's freezing out here!" She scolded.

He grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, Mom, but I didn't think you'd want our rivals in our home."

His dad crossed his arms and grinned smugly. "You're the people from across the street? Do you like our new tree?"

"Do you mean _our_ tree?" My father shot back.

Mikey rolled his eyes again. "You're all ridiculous."

Both my parents and Frank's parents turned their glares onto my little brother. He shrank back in fear, as if he were afraid they would sing Jingle Bells to him until his ears fell off.

Frank's mom spread her arms. "Welcome To The Iero residence. We've already baked all of _our_ Christmas cookies."

"A week before Christmas? They'll go bad!" My mother scoffed. "Clearly you know nothing about cooking."

"And clearly you know nothing about Saran Wrap," Mrs. Iero shot back.

We followed them inside. Their tree was beautifully decorated, and _Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer_ was playing on the television. There was a fire burning in the hearth, and four stockings were hung neatly above it. There were bundles of blankets everywhere, and a dog was sleeping on a pile of them. The house smelt of cinnamon.

Mrs. Iero disappeared into the kitchen. Mikey perched himself on the armrest of the couch, his eyes fixed on the movie. Mr. Iero told my parents to have a seat, and they did.

Frank's mom returned with a plate of cookies. She offered some to my parents, and Mikey took one as well. She presented the plate to Frank and I, and while the shorter boy declined, I accepted. "What's your name, dear?" Mrs. Iero asked me.

"Gerard," I replied.

She turned to her son. "Frankie, why don't you show Gerard and his little brother your room?"

"Mom-"

"Frank. Show them your room."

Mrs. Iero went to join her husband on the couch. Frank rolled his eyes. "Get your brother. We have to go upstairs."

After pulling Mikey away from the movie, Frank led us up the stairs. "I don't understand why we can't stay downstairs," He grumbled to me. "We're almost adults, anyways."

I nodded. "So many people treat you like you're a kid so you might as well act like one and throw your television out the hotel window."

He threw his head back and laughed loudly at that. I smiled to myself. He had a cute laugh.

We reached the top of the staircase, and Frank bit off the top of his candy cane. Mikey made a face at him. "You just bite it off? Like, you don't even try to savor it?"

"There are better things to suck on in life than candy canes, buddy," Frank told him, and he strolled down the hallway.

I choked on my cookie.

Frank's bedroom was covered in posters of rock bands, like Misfits and Black Flag and Queen. He had a bunk bed, and on the bottom bunk sat a charging laptop and a pile of clothing. On top of his dresser, there was a small Christmas tree. There were photos of him with his family and friends taped to his mirror. He had a desk, too, and it was piled high with clutter. In the corner, there was a guitar sitting on a stand.

Mikey's eyes lit up the second he saw the instrument. "You play?" He asked excitedly.

"Yeah," Frank responded sheepishly. "I'm alright."

"My friend Ray plays, too. I play bass guitar," My brother went on. "Can I take a look at it?"

Frank grinned. "Go for it."

Beaming, Mikey ran over to the guitar and carefully picked it up, leaving Frank and I in silence.

"Do you play any instruments?" Frank asked.

"I do a little bit of guitar, but I suck," I admitted.

"I could teach you, if you wanted," He said.

I smiled nervously, because he made me nervous for some reason, but not the bad kind of nervous. He gave me a feeling like there was butterflies flying around in my stomach fireworks exploding in my chest. I wanted him to like me. "I'd like that."

His smile stretched wider. "Awesome. I'll, uh, give you my number, even though you just live across the street." He laughed. He darted over to his desk and scribbled his phone number on a slip of paper.

Our hands brushed when he handed it to me, and a rush of sparks ran up my arm. I blushed furiously and shoved my hands into my pockets. Did his stupid smile have to be so cute?

I glanced at Mikey, who had a strange look on his face. He'd set the guitar back down, and his eyes were flitting between Frank and I.

"What?" I asked.

"You guys are giving each other that look." My brother averted his eyes.

"What look?"

"The look you used to give Bert McCracken before he broke your heart two years ago."

"Who's Bert McCracken?" Frank asked, pushing his hair out of his face.

"Gerard's ex boyfriend," Mikey replied at the same time I said, "Irrelevant."

Frank stood up straighter, as if he was trying to make himself seem taller. It was pretty pointless, though, because he was so short. "Whatever you say."

We were left in awkward silence after that. Mikey was still checking out the guitar. Frank had finished his candy cane. I was trying to keep my eyes locked on the floor and off of his face. I silently cursed Mikey for bringing up Bert McCracken, because not only had that reopened an old wound, but now Frank probably thought I spent all my time crying over some guy I dated two years ago.

I was always stuck with some kind of bad luck. That's how it worked when I met a cute guy. That's why I'd only ever had one boyfriend in my entire life, and he'd cheated on me.

"Gerard! Mikey!" My mom hollered. "We're leaving. Now!" She didn't sound too happy.

Frank chuckled. "It doesn't sound like things ended well between them," He said. He was toying with his lip ring, and the simple motion alone drove me slightly insane.

"Yeah," I managed. "We should probably, uh, go."

"I'll walk you guys back down," He offered.

I fell into step next to Frank. Mikey walked in front of us, and he took the stairs two at a time. He burst into the living room. "Mom! Frank has the coolest guitar! It's even cooler than the one Ray has, it's-"

"That's nice, Mikey," Mom replied shortly. "Maybe you'll get a bass from the same company for Christmas."

"You don't know the company, though."

"Don't back talk me, Michael."

Frank grinned. "It's an Epiphone Les Paul."

Dad smiled tightly at him. "Thanks. We'll be going now." He shot a glare at Mr. and Mrs. Iero before making his way to the door. Mom was on his heels, dragging Mikey along with her. I glanced sheepishly at Frank. He made his hand into the shape of a telephone, lifted it to his ear, and mouthed _call me._

I tried to keep myself from smiling, but failed miserably. He was smiling, too, though, almost as much as I was. Almost.

I shut the door behind me as I left, and my parents noticed my mood instantly. "Why are you so happy?" My mom demanded.

I shrugged. "It's Christmas," I managed weakly.

"I don't like that family," Dad grumbled as we trudged back to our house through the snow. "Especially their son. He sure thought he was all that, didn't he?"

"Yeah," Mom agreed. She glanced back at Mikey and I. "You boys aren't allowed to hang out with him, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes," We replied in unison. As soon as she turned her back, I shot Mikey a look that said, _Don't you dare say a word._

He grinned, and I knew he wouldn't.

The second we got home, I made my way up to my bedroom, trying not to seem too eager. I shut my door behind me, leaned up against it, and pulled my phone out of my pocket, along with the slip of paper with Frank's number on it.

I put his number in my phone, and typed:

_Hi. This is Gerard. Can I call you later tonight??_

Realizing that this sounded much too needy, I deleted it and wrote:

_Hey. It's Gerard. Do you still want me to call you?_

This sounded stupid. He'd asked me to call him just five minutes ago. I erased that and wrote:

_Hey this is Gerard. I can call you later tonight, if you want._

This sounded okay, so I sent it. I stared at the screen for what felt like forever before the thought bubble that indicated he was typing popped up.

_Okay ;)_

A winky face. He sent me a winky face. What did this mean? Was I supposed to respond with a winky face? Was a blushing face a thing, because that was what my face was doing right now.

I decided to just send a simple smiley face. He read it, but didn't answer.

I tucked my phone and his number back into my pocket. I was going to talk to him tonight and, though I just saw him, the thought filled me with excitement. He felt like a secret.

I wondered if I was his secret, too.

 


	2. You've Ruined My Life By Not Being Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS SO LONG AND I DIDN'T MEAN FOR IT TO BE. I APOLOGIZE.
> 
> Trigger warning: Depression

 

I'd never trusted boys.

This may have been considered weird by most people; After all, I was a boy, I was friends with boys, and I was attracted to boys. If anything, I outta not trust girls.

I didn't have a problem with girls. In fact, I rather liked girls, but not in the same way I liked boys. I thought that girls were funny, because they thought that they had to put pounds of product on their faces to be beautiful and that us boys would only like them if they had big breasts and perfect hair. It was all ridiculous in my opinion. Even though I didn't romantically like girls, my best friend, Ray Toro, did, and I knew for a fact those weren't the things he looked for when searching for a partner.

No, I didn't trust boys because, despite knowing a million things about them, I still never knew what was going on inside their heads. When girls say that all boys share a brain, they're wrong. I wished we all shared a brain, because then I wouldn't be questioning whether certain guys at school were interested in me or not.

Certain guys being Gerard Way.

There were lots of ways to describe Gerard Way, and, depending on the day, I could either list a million wonderful things about him or a million nasty things. He was about a hundred rungs higher than me on the social ladder, not to mention he was absolutely gorgeous. He'd recently dyed his hair red and somehow that was an even better look than his blond hair, which had somehow outdone his black hair. He changed his hair color every few weeks because he didn't want to get bored of it. I supposed that was the same reason he got a new girlfriend or boyfriend every couple months.

Despite his constant change in darlings, it was impossible not to fall in love with Gerard Way even the slightest. You were lucky if you only fell for him the slightest. Me, I was all in. It wasn't just a tiny piece of my heart that belonged to him. Gerard had all of it. I had none left for myself.

It wasn't exactly my fault. It was his fault, for being so charming and funny and beautiful and having a stupid adorable smile that made my insides melt. It was his fault for making me cry at three in the morning like some kind of petty sixth grader. It was his fault for texting me randomly on Snapchat and having a fifty four day streak with me. It was his fault, not mine. He was the problem here, the problem I didn't want to solve, the problem that I knew would be lingering in the back of my mind forever.

He was Gerard Way, and I was completely in love with him, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

At least he was pansexual. At least I was a maybe, instead of a never.

Sometimes I wondered if that was a bad thing. Would I rather be a never, or added to the list of people who've had their hearts broken by Gerard Way?

I didn't know. I was so unsure of everything. Next year I would be a senior, and I hadn't even figured out what I wanted to do with my life yet. I hadn't figured out what college I wanted to go to. I didn't know where I wanted to live. I supposed I could start a band and play the guitar, but there was so much stress that came with the idea that I always pushed it away the second it crept into my brain. Maybe I'd be able to decide a little easier if I didn't get shy of five hours sleep every night.

Gerard would be a comic book artist. That was obvious. I'd seen his collection of comics in the Snapchats he'd sent me, and it was enormous. He was an amazing artist, too.

Ray was going to be a teacher. Everybody knew that. He loved to work with people and had been at the top of our class every year since kindergarten.

Gerard might've been my crush, but Ray was my anchor, no question. Without him, I would've killed myself years ago.

I'd struggled with some kind of depression since my parents divorced in eighth grade. In freshman year, it'd gotten so bad to the point where I almost committed suicide out of sheer exhaustion. Sometimes the same old routine didn't seem worth it.

Ray was, though. He was a reminder that there was still good in the world, always donating half of his allowance to animal shelters and smiling at toddlers at the mall. I knew my mother loved me endlessly, but she was so busy that she didn't always notice when I was in a particularly low point in my life.

Gerard was worth it, too.Ray was my best friend, and I liked Gerard Way a little more than I cared to admit. However, while Ray actually did care about me, I was a whole lot of nothing to Gerard, and that was how it would always be. My heart could've chosen anybody, but, of course, it had to be Gerard Way. It was _always_ Gerard Way.

"Hey, Frank, you need to eat more than three bites of that," Ray urged, snapping me out of my thoughts. He nodded at my peanut butter and jelly sandwich. "I'm not letting you leave this table until you finish that entire sandwich. This is the third day in a row that you haven't been eating well."

"You can't make me do anything, Toro," I assured him, giving him a small smile. I took a bite of my sandwich and swallowed, barely tasting any of it.

"Christa and I will hold you down, won't we, babe?" Ray promised, grinning at his girlfriend. Every single time he looked at her, his gaze was filled with love, wonder, and amazement, as if he couldn't believe he got so lucky. He would give her the world if he could. They'd been going out for three years, and still, nobody made him happier than Christa.

I wished I could make somebody that happy.

Christa laughed, twirling her spaghetti around her fork. "Would you look at how long they make these noodles?" She asked in disbelief.

"Are they long enough that I could use one to tie a noose?" I questioned.

_This is why you only have two friends, Frank,_ I chided myself.

"Did you take your meds this morning?" Ray asked, meeting my eyes.

"Yes."

"When do you see your therapist next? Tuesday?"

"Yes."

"If you need to talk about anything, you know I'm here, right?"

"Yes."

I didn't know why I'd been getting worse lately. I'd been completely fine for two weeks, and then suddenly, like some kind of switch had been flipped, I didn't want to play my guitar anymore. I didn't feel hungry, and I only wanted to sleep, but it was impossible. I couldn't concentrate on my English test today, and I was sure I failed it. I failed at everything, anyways, so I wasn't sure what difference it would make.

_It wouldn't make a difference,_ I reminded myself. _It's not like you're worth anything to anyone anyways._

"We both are," Christa promised. "Here for you, I mean."

I only nodded and stared at the table, unsure of what to say in response. I guessed that I could've said _thanks_ or even _I know_ was acceptable. However, I'd heard the words so many times that they didn't seem to mean much anymore, though I knew Ray and Christa's intentions were good.

"Hey, Frank." A boy with bright red hair sat down in the chair next to me. He smiled and placed his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his hands.

I willed myself not to blush, but it was useless. Every single time Gerard Way spoke to me, usually at arbitrary times, I always turned as red as his hair. Sometimes he'd just drop by my locker to compliment my shirt. I could barely form words when he did that because I couldn't stop thinking about how he'd noticed what I was wearing and if he noticed that everyday and if he just payed attention to what I wore or if he just took special care in checking out everybody's shirt they'd gotten off the Hot Topic website. Other times, he would stop me in the hallway to tell me a ridiculous joke, and I would laugh for an embarrassingly long time because that stupid one-liner was only funny because he'd told it.

Sitting by me with ten minutes left of lunch? That was a new one.

"Hi-i, Gerard," I squeaked, my voice coming out an octave higher than usual. I cleared my throat, my face growing warmer. He had to know I had a crush on him by now. It was painfully obvious, and no matter how many times I told myself that I hated him or that I didn't care about him whatsoever, he stayed stubbornly in my heart.

"You okay?" Gerard reached out and brushed a lock of hair out of my face. I didn't trust myself to speak, so I just nodded.

_He touched my face. He touched my face. He touched my face._

Ray glanced at Christa. They were both suppressing smiles, and they seemed to have a silent conversation before getting up to dump their trays, leaving Gerard and I alone.

"Hey," I whispered.

"Hi," He whispered back. "Why are we whispering?"

"I don't know." Why did I have to be so awkward?

He giggled, and I smiled at the sound, my heart doing backflips in my chest. "You're cute, you know that, Frank Iero?" He asked, shaking his head.

I lost my ability to breathe. I just sat there, staring at him like a complete idiot as his smile grew wider and my face grew redder. I didn't know what to say or even how to form words right now because Gerard Way had just called me _cute_.

"Um, th-thanks, I guess," I managed.

Gerard smirked and leaned closer to me. "You're blushing. Is it me?"

"It might be," I responded. "There's a very large chance of you being the reason that I'm, uh, blushing." _That sounded so stupid, Frank, you idiot._

He just laughed again and sat back in his chair. "You're something, you know that?"

"No."

"Well, now you do. And I hope you don't forget it anytime soon."

Of course I wouldn't forget it. I never forgot anything Gerard said to me, well, not until I replayed his words in my head a hundred times everyday for the next week.

"I was wondering if you were going to be at Brendon's party tomorrow night," He went on.

"I'll be there," I guaranteed instantly.

Gerard beamed. "Great! Well, I'll see you there, Frankie."

And with that, he got up and rejoined his friends, leaving me staring after him like a complete fool.

I couldn't believe I'd agreed to go to a party. I didn't go to parties. I spent my time playing video games and practicing my guitar, being social was simply not a thing that I enjoyed.

_Again, this is why you only have two friends. Maybe three, after that little shenanigan._

"What was that about?" Ray asked, sitting back down at the table. Christa only smiled, her eyes darting back and forth between Gerard and I.

I took a breath, and met Ray's eyes. "How do you feel about going to Brendon Urie's party tomorrow night?"

. . . .

I spent Saturday worrying about two things; the party and Gerard Way. Mostly Gerard Way.

He hadn't talked to me since lunch aside from sending me Snapchat streaks this morning. I'm not going to lie; I expected him to at least message me or something, but he didn't.

He was nothing short of unpredictable. I wondered if I would ever figure him out.

By noon I was desperate to do anything but attend this party. I knew Ray was ecstatic, and while I hated to disappoint him, there was no way I could go through with this; I'd only ever been to one house party in my life, and it was miserable. I could just shoot Ray and Gerard a quick text telling that I wasn't allowed to go. I just had to figure out how I could get my mom to make me stay home.

I supposed I could tell her I didn't feel well, but that would only cause her to keep me home from school for the next couple days, and I couldn't afford to fall behind. Plus, if she thought I was sick, she'd hover.

I could tell her I didn't want to go, but then she'd ask why not and if Ray was going and if she found out I told Ray and Gerard I would be there, I would be forced to go.

So I did the only other thing I could think of. I made my way downstairs, and walked into the kitchen, where my mother was doing the dishes. I was supposed to do that chore tonight after dinner. I would much rather take fifteen minutes to clean plates than spend hours at a party.

"Hey, Mom," I said.

My mother dried her hands and turned down her music. "Hey, Munchkin."

"I told you to stop calling me that."

"But you're just so little, Frankie. What else am I supposed to call you?"

"I'm going out tonight," I told her, biting back a smile.

She beamed. "You are? That's fantastic! You haven't gone out on the weekends in a long time. Is it a date, or are you hanging out with Ray? Is Christa going?" She gasped. "Is it a double date?"

I blushed. "It's not a date, Mom."

She smiled knowingly. "Did Gerard ask you to go out with him?"

I stared at the floor, wishing it would swallow me up. Of course my mother would think I was going on a date with Gerard. She'd known about my crush on him ever since we'd run into him at the bookstore last year and I'd blushed a thousand shades of red and tripped over my words. I should've known that this was a bad idea.

I stayed silent, because Gerard _had_ asked me to go out tonight and I couldn't bear to lie to her. Dad had already told her enough lies to last her a lifetime.

Mom squealed. "Oh, I knew he would eventually! I like Gerard, he's a nice boy. Is his hair still black with the teal roots?"

"It's red now," I muttered. I looked up to meet her eyes. "You do know this party is going to have alcohol?"

"Yes, be careful."

"There are going to be drugs there."

"Don't take them, Munchkin."

_"Mom!"_ She was supposed to be thinking about how unsafe this was and how she'd prefer it if I stayed home.

"I still can't believe Gerard finally asked you to be his boyfriend. It took him long enough."

"I'm not his boyfriend." I crossed my arms and tried to ignore the heat rushing into my face.

"Use protection."

I stormed upstairs. I could still hear my mom laughing to herself as I slammed my door shut.

I threw myself on my bed. I was going to have to go to this stupid party all for a stupid boy with a stupid cute laugh and beautiful eyes and really nice legs...

I groaned, shoving my face into my pillow. I hated this. I hated this so much.

. . . .

Ray and Christa picked me up for the party around 9:20, even though the party was supposed to start at 9:00. It would take us ten minutes to get to Brendon's house, so we'd get there around 9:30. I sure hoped my skinny jeans and Misfits shirt was acceptable, because there was no way I'd be changing out of this.

"We're going to be, like, thirty minutes late," I informed my friends as I climbed into the backseat.

"It's called being fashionably late," Christa told me as she touched up her lipstick. "Nobody arrives on time for these kinds of parties, Frank. How long has it been since you've been to one?"

"A while," I admitted. "Is this okay to wear?"

She glanced into the backseat. "Yeah."

I tried to ignore the butterflies fluttering around in my stomach. I knew I shouldn't be nervous, but I would be seeing Gerard outside of school for the first time tonight. I kept tugging at the collar of my shirt and running my hands through my hair. I couldn't help it.

When we arrived at Brendon's house, Ray parked on the curb. We walked up to the front door and knocked.

Brendon Urie flung open the door, his mouth stretched into a wide grin. He held a plastic cup, which I assumed was filled with some kind of alcohol, in his hand. Music from inside drifted out of the house, along with the faint scent of marijuana. I shoved my hands in my pockets, trying to push my uncomfortable feelings aside.

"Hey!" Brendon exclaimed. "Come on in! Drinks are in the kitchen, and Bert's got the weed if you want any."

Before we could respond, he disappeared into the crowd of people. Ray and Christa stepped inside, with me just behind them.

Brendon had a nice enough house, and I was sure I would like it a lot more if the music wasn't as loud as it was and the scent of weed and cigarettes blending together wasn't so strong.

"Frank, Christa and I are going to get something to drink," Ray said. "Want to come?"

I shook my head. I'd never pegged Ray as the type to enjoy alcohol, but I guess I was wrong. I wondered if he only drank a little bit, or if he got drunk at every party he went to.

I scanned the room. In the center of the living room, people were dancing, or at least trying to. Their moves were either awkward or sexual; There was really no in between. Lounging on couches, chairs, or even the floor were people who were chatting with one another. Everybody was either smoking something or drinking. Gerard was nowhere in sight, and I suddenly felt intimidated by the group.

_You should've gone with Ray and Christa._ I pushed through the mess of bodies until I found the kitchen, which was thankfully less crowded than the living room.

I spotted my friends talking to Ronnie Radke. Ray had a beer in his hand, and Christa was drinking something from one of the plastic cups I'd seen Brendon with earlier. They didn't seem to notice me. I didn't want to interrupt their conversation with Ronnie, so I just grabbed a beer and left the room.

This was a mistake. I would rather be sitting at home watching YouTube videos. Why was I here?

I opened my beer and took a sip. It was so bitter that I practically spit it back out, but I forced myself to swallow. I had absolutely no desire to drink more of it, and I had no idea how Ray or anybody else here enjoyed it.

"Hey!"

I turned around to see Remington Leith approaching me, a drink in his hand and a cigarette tucked behind his ear. We'd already made eye contact, so I couldn't walk away pretending like I hadn't heard him. I sighed. There were only three people I'd come here wanting to talk to, and Remington was not one of them.

"Enjoying the party?"He asked, leaning against the wall. "The drinks are pretty good, if you ask me."

_Why is everyone here so obsessed with the drinks?_ I forced a smile. "Yeah. They're great." I took another swig of my beer and tried not to make a face.

"What's your name again?" Remington asked. I couldn't tell if he'd just had a bit too much to drink and couldn't remember it, or if he'd never known in the first place.

"Frank," I told him.

He grinned tapped his temple with his free hand. "Ah. I remember now. Frank Lero, right?"

"Iero."

"That's what I said."

_No, it wasn't._ "Sorry. I must've heard you wrong. The music's really loud."

"It is! But it's good stuff," Remington laughed. He clapped me on the back. "I'll see you around, Frank." He strode off to find his next victim.

I doubted he'd even remember my name by the end of the night, not that I cared. I scanned the room for Gerard. I finally spotted him next to Bert McCracken. I watched as Gerard threw his head back and laughed at something. Bert only smiled and took his joint out of his mouth, offering it to Gerard, who took it.

I could barely believe it. Gerard had asked me to come here, and he wasn't even bothering to look for me. I watched Bert give Gerard a sloppy kiss on the cheek, and I wanted to scream. Gerard wasn't Bert's person to kiss.

I turned away, heading towards the back door. I had to get out of here right now.

There were more people smoking on the porch than there'd been inside, but I didn't care. I pushed past them, finally reaching a corner. I leaned over the rails, downed the rest of my drink, and shut my eyes. I could practically feel the alcohol buzzing lightly through my veins, and it felt weirdly nice. The beer really didn't even taste that bad anymore. I could almost go for another one.

"Hey." Somebody touched my forearm.

My eyes snapped open, and I met the eyes of a girl I didn't know the name of. She had dark brown hair and was wearing heavy eye makeup. She smiled at me, and took a step closer.

"Why are you all alone?" She giggled. "You're too pretty to be all alone on a night like this."

"I'm gay," I blurted out, and darted back inside. I reentered the living room, unsure of what to do with myself. I spotted Ray and Christa slow dancing to a pop song on the makeshift dance floor. I wished that the three of us could just leave already.

I retreated into a corner, hoping that nobody would notice me. I just needed to be alone for a moment. The buzz from my drink didn't feel very good anymore, it just felt odd. I considered going to get another beer to see if it would make it more tolerable. I was just about to when I heard shouting from another area of the room that caught my attention.

Four boys surrounded Zac Farro, who was on the floor, throwing up. They were cheering him on, the five of them so obviously drunk that it was only a game to them. I stepped back into my corner, any desire for another drink gone.

I glanced back at the dance floor, but Ray and Christa were gone. In their place was Lindsey Ballato, who was grinding with Gerard Way.

It took me a minute to process it, but when I did, I turned and bolted. I couldn't watch that. I couldn't watch Lindsey act so intimate with the guy I was in love with, even if he didn't feel the same way about me.

I was desperate for solitude, desperate for quiet, desperate for the familiarity of being alone. I shouldn't have shown up. I should've left after Bert had kissed him. I should've given up on Gerard Way a long time ago.

My eyes fell on the staircase, and I raced upstairs, hoping at least one room would be empty. It was too loud here. There was too much alcohol, too much marijuana, and too many people.

I entered the first room I saw at the top of the staircase. Luckily, there was nobody inside, but I could hear the moans of the people in the room next to me. I sank down against the wall, hugging my knees to my chest.

Gerard was a player, a liar, a cheat. He'd invited me to this party and hadn't even bothered to come and find me. Maybe he'd just been playing with me, teasing me because he knew I liked him more than I should. I hated him. Gerard Way was nothing to me.

He didn't care about me. He never had, and I was a fool for believing that I could've had something with him. I suddenly felt so stupid for replaying our conversations in my head before going to bed each night and thinking of him whenever a love song came on my playlist. I felt dumb for looking forward to third period every day because that was the class I had with him. He was the world to me, and I was a joke to him.

How come Lindsey got to touch him like that? How come Bert got to kiss him so easily? Neither of them would ever love him the same way I did. They didn't care about him at all.

I hated Gerard for dragging me to this party. I hated Bert for putting his lips on Gerard's face. I hated Lindsey for running her hands all over Gerard. I hated them. I hated them all.

I should've smoked something or had more to drink. Weren't drugs and alcohol supposed to make you forget your problems?

I would, but not yet. I needed this silence a little bit longer.

I heard footsteps outside, and I held my breath as the door opened. Lindsey and Gerard stumbled inside, lip locked. Gerard pulled the door shut behind them. She pushed him onto the bed and smiled before fastening her lips to a sensitive spot on his neck, causing him to moan softly.

I tore my eyes away, frozen. There was a small part of me that didn't want to interrupt them and just let them do their thing, but I really wanted to leave. What I wanted to do the most was get up and scream at both of them. I wanted to hurl the pillows they'd knocked to the ground at them and pull books off the shelf to throw, too. I wanted to hurt them the way they'd hurt me.

I was about to get up and leave, not caring if I ruined this for them because they'd ruined my night, when-

"Ah, _Frank._ "

I whipped my head towards them. Gerard's skinny jeans were on the floor, but he still had his boxers on. Lindsey, who's shirt was gone, had been kissing his thighs, but now she slowly moved away from him. "Excuse me?"

Gerard sat up, his face bright red with embarrassment. "Linds- I'm so sorry- I didn't mean to-"

"I don't want to hear it, Gerard," She told him coldly, pulling her shirt back on.

"Lindsey-"

She stormed out of the room before he could finish.

Gerard groaned, covering his face with his hands. "You idiot," He muttered to himself. "You _idiot_."

I couldn't make myself move. I could only sit there and stare at him, clueless as to what I should do. I didn't know if I should wait for him to notice me or if I should go over there. Maybe he wouldn't see me and he would just leave.

Turns out, I didn't have to decide. Gerard looked up and happened to meet my eyes.

"Y-you were here the whole time, weren't you?" He asked, blushing violently.

I nodded, feeling heat rise to my own cheeks.

He laughed. "Look at you. You're blushing even though you shouldn't be the one who's embarrassed. I love that about you."

We just kind of looked at each other for a moment, just smiling and blushing. It was hard for me to believe I'd been so convinced that I hated him just minutes earlier, because right now there was no place I'd rather be.

I got to my feet and walked over to him. I sat down on the bed next to him, and he slowly brought his face closer to mine until our noses were barely touching. I searched his hazel eyes for a moment longer, looking for some kind of confirmation for what I thought he was about to do. My heart was thundering in my chest, and my gaze slowly fell to his lips. I didn't dare breathe.

He placed his hand on the back of my head gently, and the next thing I knew he was kissing me. His lips were soft, and he still tasted like alcohol, not that I minded. My head was spinning and my heart was racing and there was no way that this was real.

It was over too quickly. As Gerard was pulling away, I was leaning in for more, and he didn't fail to deliver. This kiss was hungrier, and his hands slid into my hair. I grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer to me. My lips strayed from his mouth to his neck.

We kissed for what felt like forever. There were slow, deep kisses and fast kisses that never seemed to last long enough. There were gentle kisses that I was blushing by the end of and desperate kisses that made my heart beat fast. There were neck kisses, forehead kisses, cheek kisses, and hand kisses. I didn't think I could ever get sick of him. I wanted to freeze this moment, to live in it forever.

After a particularly long kiss, Gerard started giggling when we broke apart. His smile made my heart melt, and knowing that I had caused him to smile like that only made it better.

"Why are you laughing?" I asked. I kissed his cheek.

"I love you," He giggled. "So much. I have for so long."

"Me too," I said, and I couldn't help but laugh along with him.

Finally, we calmed down.

"Hey," He whispered, tracing my lips with his fingers.

"Hi," I whispered back. "Why are we whispering?"

"I don't know." He fell back onto the bed and pulled me down with him. I lay with my head against his chest, his heartbeat slowly lulling me to sleep.

 


End file.
